


Take it Like a Man

by GoldStarGrl



Category: Veep
Genre: Blowjobs, Hair Washing, Hair-pulling, M/M, Shower Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Victory Adrenaline All That Jazz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7046782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldStarGrl/pseuds/GoldStarGrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Shampooing someone's head is the most erotic thing you could ever possibly do." - Charles Boyle, Brooklyn Nine Nine.</p><p>Dan takes fixing Jonah's look into his own hands. Spoilers through 5x06.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this is stolen from a Legally Blonde the Musical song because I have no shame.

Dan apparently thinks he's, like, fucking Tim Gunn now.

He screamed at Richard and a few of the people Jeff hired to help out to get him the name of a tailor, did they even have tailors in this backward hellhole that was just Massachusetts' ugly hat but with more trees and less accessible Wi-Fi? And the fucking morons listened. They scattered, did Dan's bidding with a frantic, determined energy Jonah had never been able to summon from them.

Fucking Dan. Just because he looked like a guy from one of those stupid black-and-white movies his mom liked he thought he was a big shitting deal. Fuck him and his smug attitude and the way he kept saying "rebranding". Fuck the stupid suit and dumb tie with horizontal stripes he demanded Jonah wear, but especially fuck him for being listened to.

"I'm too shredded for this shirt, it's fucking choking me." He whined, leaning against the doorframe, tugging at the collar in what even he had to admit was an overly dramatic fashion. He seriously considered holding his breath until he passed out, just to make Dan look stupid.

"It's not choking you, it's just fitted. It's not my fault all your other suits are from your sponsorship deal with the Biggest Loser." Dan glanced up and sighed, irritated. "What the hell is going on with your hair?"

"What?" His reached up to touch his bangs unconsciously, before catching himself and balling his fingers into a fist. "Fuck you Dan, it's my hair, I like it."

"It makes you look like a 14-year-old going through an emo phase." Dan heaved himself upright against the desk. "Come on, we're going to the bathroom, I'm gonna fix it."

"No! You're not my fucking pageant mom!"

"Richard! Drag a chair up to the sink for me." Dan snapped. Jonah resisted the urge to punch him, but just barely.

It was an awkward position, arched backwards with his head resting in the sink basin, his shoulders aching even in the chair Dan had deigned to think of. And Dan Egan was washing his hair. He folded his jacket on the counter while he waited for the water to warm, tucked his shirtsleeves to his elbows and kept a properly disgusted look on his face while he did it, his hands and the water running through Jonah's hair with equal speed.

Dan wrestled open the little travel shampoo he from his bag, laid out the porcelain counter, and started working them into suds. They sat in tense, uncomfortable silence for a minute. The cheap vanilla smell reminded Jonah of a beauty parlor. 

Dan broke the quiet first, shifting his gaze from his own hands to Jonah's face, smirking. "Dude, do you straighten your hair?"

"...No." Jonah lied, pausing a second too long.

"It's curling in my hands, dumbass." Dan rolled his eyes. "Don't do that anymore."

"Fuck you-"

"It looks better with waves. And it doesn't get greasy as fast." He dug his fingers into Jonah's scalp a little deeper, and Jonah fought the urge to shiver. There was something almost...relaxing about this. Something that would almost be kind of intimate and sexy if anyone but Dan Egan was doing it.

"Did you flunk out of beauty school or something?" He asked, loudly, mostly just to distract himself. Dan cupped the back of his neck.

For a terrifying, thrilling moment he was sure Dan was going to lean in and do something stupid, but he only lifted Jonah's head out of the sink, letting it drip while he patted it dry with paper towels. He pushed the faucet off with the heel of his hand; Jonah hadn't realized how much noise the rush of water made. In it's absence, the air became even more quiet, loaded.

"I do my own hair, Jonad. Someday when you're a grown man you'll understand." He took a wooden hairbrush - the pretentious douche face probably ordered it from a 100-year-old whittler in Norway, like that gave him class - out of his bag, brandishing it an inch from Jonah's face.

"Watch how I do this because I'm not getting you ready for the prom every fucking morning, okay?"

Jonah made a face as Dan started to pull his hair up and back through the brush bristles. He still had his back against the sink, so he couldn’t see what Dan was doing in the mirror, but he could feel the curl of his hair being pulled sideways into a smooth wave. The tendons in Dan’s wrist flexed as he dragged Jonah’s bangs away from his face. Jonah shifted in his chair.

“You have so much fucking hair.” Dan mumbled, half to himself.

“You have too many fucking freckles.” Jonah shot back, but it fell a little flat and he felt his face warm as soon as the words left his mouth. The uncomfortable memory of the time in high school he got drunk and suggested his friend Paul kiss him “as a joke” bubbled to the surface of his consciousness.

Dan didn’t recoil, though. He leaned in a little closer, so close Jonah could count those freckles if given a chance, and ran the brush through a particularly rough, wet snarl. It pulled against Jonah’s scalp and even with his mouth clamped shut, he couldn’t stifle the whimper it produced. Dan’s eyelids fell half-closed. He clapped his hand around the back of Jonah’s neck again, harder this time.

“Hold still.” He said, barely a murmur. Jonah nodded mutely, and Dan's grip tightened.

“What did I just sa-”

Jonah reached out too, letting his hand rest against the side of Dan's neck, his eyes following it's curve up to read his expression. He wasn’t imaging it; Dan's face flushed pink, paired with heavy-hooded dark eyes. They held each other's gaze for one whole second. Dan's hand relaxed around the hairbrush, and Jonah felt it slip by his ear and clatter to the floor.

The noise snapped Dan out of the moment, pulling back and coughing. Jonah's hand fell through the air. “There. You look half-decent. There’s some gel in the bag, do not skimp on it.” He crouched and snatched it off the tiled floor, coughing very loudly again as he headed for the door.

“You forgot your jacket.” Jonah tried weakly.

“I’ll buy a new one!” The door slammed behind him.

He sat still for a moment, alone in the bathroom, before remembering he didn’t have to listen to Dan fucking Egan. Dan, the weirdo who was such a control freak he had to brush another man’s hair for him and make it weird. So fucking weird. Asshole.

He turned around and examined himself in the mirror. Even with pieces sticking out - the gel would fix them - it looked pretty fucking baller. After the town hall tonight he’d go to a bar and see if it attracted some Jackie types. He _clearly_ needed to get laid.


	2. Chapter 2

The last time Jonah felt this buzzed he was three lines of cocaine deep in a frat house freshman year of college and a blonde girl with double Ds let him give her a hickey.

His phone beeped so often it blended into a steady intone in his pocket. Texts and Twitter alerts pushed each other off the screen before he could read them all, and they were mostly smiling emojis and the phrase FUCK YEAH.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” Dan hissed as the elevator deposited them on their floor, but he didn’t sound mad. His eyes were bright, darting around the Hilton’s inoffensive tan walls and geometrically patterned carpet. “The clip just got onto Buzzfeed, this is amazing.”

“All I do is win, Danny.” He stopped at his door, digging into his pockets. “We kicked ass tonight."

"Fuck yeah, we did."

"Choke on a dick, Selina.” He pulled his hands out, empty. “Shit, I think Richard has my room key.”

“I told him to go work in the spin room, he’ll talk for hours about how you’re going to save the maple syrup industry. The idiot would probably kill a man for you.” Dan tucked his phone into his jacket pocket, which was folded over his arm like a goddamn butler. “You can come have a drink in my room while you wait for him, if you want.”

“Yeah?” Jonah smiled. “That’d be awesome.”

He stayed a step behind Dan as he let them into his own room down the hall, half-certain he was about to get the door slammed in his face. Dan seemed looser than normal, something relaxed and uplifted in his expression since the campaign kick-off, but Jonah liked to consider himself something of a D.C. power player, and that meant he was prepared for Dan Egan to snap back into his usual dickishness at any second.

But Dan let him in without a nasty word, gesturing vaguely to the minibar as he kicked off his shoes and threw his bag and coat onto the bed. The room was a mess, Jonah noted, clothes and papers and take out boxes everywhere. A nondescript, oblong black case lay closed on the night table.

“Wait, do you _actually_ wear glasses?” Jonah pointed. Dan, almost imperceptibly, cringed.

“I wear contacts.” He corrected, leaning against the bathroom door as he rubbed his eyes. “Those... _things_...are for emergencies only.”

“Then why do I have to wear these?” Jonah said, pulling the plastic black frames off his face and waving them in the air.

“Because they work with your face shape, okay? You’ve got a good fucking face for glasses, I don’t.”

Jonah blinked, his mind taking a moment to process what Dan had said as a compliment. Dan, too, seemed unsure of how to proceed, his Adam’s apple bobbing aimlessly.

“Thanks.” Jonah tried, and the word felt like peanut butter sticking in his mouth on the way out.

A beat. Quiet but for the tick of Dan’s watch. Jonah shut the door and took a step forward, nearly closing the gap between them. Dan’s eyes flicked up and down his body, a strange, nervous sort of smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Whatever.” He said, with a chuckle that mostly stayed in his throat. The low light of the room threw his five million freckles into relief, and-

-“Fuck it.” Jonah decided, out loud, and with another step he was bent at the neck, kissing Dan Egan against the bathroom door, hands sliding up his jaw, and it was hot and deep, sending bursts of adrenaline to the ends of his extremities by ways of his stomach and chest. Dan tilted his chin up for a moment, responding with measured enthusiasm.

Then, without warning, he wasn’t.

“Ah.” Dan pulled back and exhaled, his eyes skyward, glaring at God. “Fuck. Listen to me, this is the worst possible time you could indulge in your bi-curiosity.” The words came out reluctantly, addressed to Jonah’s neck rather than his face. “This was a good day, quit while you’re ah-”

“I’m not bi-curious, Dan, I’m fucking bi. Full stop.” Jonah’s stomach tingled a little, pleased with the slightly head jerk it produced from Dan. “And I know you want this, don’t fucking lie.”

He pushed his knee more insistently in between Dan’s legs. Dan’s teeth sunk down into his own lip, poorly stifling a whine. Jonah took it as encouragement. He pushed forward, bracing one hand on the bathroom door, using the other to twist the knob. Dan grabbed Jonah’s tie for balance as they stumbled into the room, against the sink.

“Watch it.”

“You picked out my clothes, glasses, you did my hair.” He mumbled, fumbling with the metal  latch on Dan’s belt. “You’ve been cumming your pants over me since this afternoon.”

“Shut _up_.” Dan groaned, bucking a little against his touch. Jonah leaned over, sucking hard on the pulse point in Dan’s neck.

“Were you hot for your science teacher, Danny?” He asked, coming up for air. “You wanna get bent over the tub by someone with newscaster hair?”

It was a joke, but Dan flushed pink under his freckles, so deeply across his cheeks and nose it gave Jonah pause. He let his hands drop to Dan’s waist, and the muscles contracted under his touch.

“Give me a second, go get some towels.” He said. And Dan listened.

* * *

He felt weird waiting in the shower, felt weird getting undressed separately like a couple high schoolers trying to lose it on prom night. He’d already gotten the water just the right temperature of hot without being scalding when Dan stepped in, almost slipping in his determined rush, like if he took his time he would change his mind.

Jonah reached out and grabbed his arms to steady him, even though his own hands were shaking a little bit. Dan looked up at him, slightly stunned, like he never saw him before. The water made Jonah’s hair collapse, the gel washing away Dan’s earlier work.

“You still think I’m hot, right?” He asked. Dan rolled his eyes and kissed him hard, grabbing Jonah’s wrists in his hands, holding them against the wall as Jonah opened his mouth a little wider, letting Dan deepen the kiss. The spray plastered his bangs back against his forehead.

“Put the back glasses on.” Dan said.

Jonah wrestled one of his arms free and groped outside the shower curtain until he found them, and shoved them back on his face, a slight pressure settling in his stomach as he did so. Dan’s eyes went even darker as he straightened up and he almost lunged for Jonah's jugular.

The kisses turned to bites, Jonah nipping at the freckles on Dan’s shoulders. The stroking of hips and ass turned into groping, Dan digging his fingers into Jonah’s skin to hold himself steady as he rutted against Jonah’s leg. They didn’t talk for a minute, mostly emitting little wet gasps and hushed, strained swears.

Dan’s hands roamed upward, gripping Jonah’s shoulders, neck, raking through his hair again. He yanked Jonah’s head forward, making his scalp sear, but the sting, like all the other pain Dan brought into his life, just kept him hanging on, letting Dan use him as an anchor, pulling his hair as he rubbed against Jonah’s thigh increased in speed becoming more frantic.

“You’re so fucking _hot.”_  He moaned, nearly growled.

The flecks of water and steam were clouding the lenses of his glasses, but Jonah could still make out the way Dan’s face went slack when he came.

“ _Fuck_.” He hissed, and the word was a swear and a prayer, angry and reverent, all at once. He let his head drop against Jonah’s chest, hands clutching his forearms tightly once again as he caught his breath.

Before the fatigue could take over, before Jonah could get too used to the feeling of his body in his arms, Dan he sunk to his knees and took Jonah in his mouth. It didn’t take long, Jonah was already so sensitive and hard. A few long stripes licked from the base and the swirl of Dan’s tongue around the tip, and the hot water was mixed with cum as it swirled down the drain.

He offered a hand, but Dan said “Fuck off.” and pulled himself upright.

They held their faces maybe three inches apart, and Jonah couldn't resist leaning over to peck a particularly heavy cluster of freckles under Dan’s left eye. That jittery smirk came back, and when Jonah placed his hand on the small of Dan’s back and pulled him to his chest, he didn’t fight it, merely reached up and lazily fiddled with the rims of Jonah’s glasses.

They stood there long enough for the water to run cold, and even though Jonah couldn’t see worth a damn, he was suddenly overwhelmed with satisfaction at the guy Jeff and New Hampshire most of all, Dan, had him pretending to be.


End file.
